There are many things I don't understand.
I don't understand why I have to work late, and I don't get paid for it. No, that's a lie. It's because I dick around online checking blogs all fucking day when there's work to be done. At least I finish it.
I don't understand why people feel awkward around me, because I don't feel awkward, but I hear it. I can hear it in their eyes: You are awkward. Why are you like that?
I don't understand why people just stand there.
Today, I left work at seven, because like I said, I was dicking around all day. I'm walking towards the bus stop, and I see someone lying on the ground. Convulsing. He was having a seizure. I watched people step over him, make eye contact with each other and glancing sideways at the convulsing man.
So I fucking speed up and hustle over there. There are people waiting for the bus, standing there, trying not to stare. Ten, twelve feet away. What the hell is their problem? GET OVER THERE. HELP HIM.
And then? I hesitated.
Shame on me. Never hesitate, what am I doing? Get over there.
Reaching his side, I kneel down. He's obviously homeless, because I can smell it on him, and has a blanket next to him and a bag of some kind of crap (I should be a detective, with these mad skills). His face is covered in spit and saliva, and he's choking. On his tongue. I put my hand on his chest and his eyes snap open, he's shaking harder. Turn him on his side, and he starts coughing up all over his blanket.
I glare over at the bus stop commuters. "Hey, can someone call the paramedics?"
"Excuse me, please, can someone call the paramedics?"
One pedestrian looks perplexed. "Oh, um, I don't know if I have my phone." She turns to the woman next to her. "Can you..."
"I don't know, what can I do?" She shrugs. "But we should do something."
Yeah, you should. Fuck you, assholes. I watched you watch him. My patience is wearing thin. "If you need a phone, you can use--"
"Do you need help? Is he okay?" It's one of the men I watched step over him. Homeless Man starts shaking again. I put my hand on his back. What the fuck do you do for a seizure? Shit. I can't remember. Goddammit. I should pay more attention.
"Does he look okay? Can you call 911?"
A security guard from the building runs over. "I saw from the window. The paramedics are on their way."
"Does anyone know what to do for a seizure?" I ask the gathering crowd. Some look disgusted. With good reason, this guy was a fucking mess. Slobbering like Hooch, shaking like a...I don't even know, something that fucking shakes, I don't know. Polaroid picture.
"Should he bite on something?"
"No, um...what you're doing. What you're doing is good."
This goes on for several minutes, with people standing around staring, Homeless Man coughing. I use his blanket to wipe off his face. Eventually he stops convulsing, and closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. He looks at me, and I smile. He struggles to sit up, and I try to keep him on his side, but he's fucking adamant.
"It's okay. Just sit for awhile."
He freaks out. Jumps to his feet, and the crowd jumps back, gasping. I walk over to him and put my hand on his shoulder. "Sit down. It's all right."
He does this crazy shimmy, like a dog after a swim, and waddles to get his bearings. He looks at me, shakes his head. Points at me and smiles a little. Creepily, though, because he's got saliva smeared all over his face. Then he sighs, deeply, quickly, growling slightly. Does another dog shimmy, jumps twice, waves, and runs into traffic.
He weaves throughout the speeding cars, and they're honking. That bastard was nimble. He gets to the other side of the street, turns and waves at me again, and takes off at a run.
Well, now what the fuck do I do? All of his shit is there, the paramedics are on their way. And a crowd around me, sniggering, leaving. I can't even move, I just stand there and stare after him, and then I realize I'm crying.
I don't understand why nothing I do goes right.